“Max: "You'll never be good enough to deserve her, you know."Ash: "God doesn't always give you what you deserve," Ash said quietly. "Sometimes he gives you what you can't live without.”

“He sensed that his bride was only a step away from bolting. Fiona's words came back to him — I've yet to meet a lass who could resist a strappin' fellow with a babe in his arms.In an effort to erase her stricken expression, he thrust his burden into her arms. "My children and I would like to welcome you to Elsinore, my lady."She eased back the blanket, then stood gazing down at the feathery perfection of the babe's head.Her eyes were as cool as the ash from yesterday's fire. "No, thank you," she finally said, handing it back to him. "I've already eaten.”

“He caught her bythe shoulders and gave her a hard little shake. "Do you think you're so charming in that silly little nightdress that I can't resist tumbling you? Do you think I have no pride when it comes to you?""B-b-but I—""Well, you're right," he shouted. "I don't!"With that, his lips came down on hers”

“MarkBaynard: You know what they say- dying is easy; comedy is hard.”

“Do you know what the best thing about getting my sight back will be?” he asked softly.“No,” she replied, all of the bravado gone from her voice.Straightening, he took one step toward her, then another. She refused to give ground until he was almoston top of her. Feeling the air shift as she retreated, he clumsily flanked her until their positions werereversed and she was the one backing toward the door. “Some might believe it would be the joy ofwatching the sun dip below a lavender horizon at the end of a perfect summer day.”When he heard her back come up against the door, he splayed one palm against the thick mahoganybehind her. “Others might judge it to be perusing the velvety petals of a ruby red rose…”—leaningforward until he felt the warm tickle of her breath against his face, he deepened his voice to a smokycaress—“or gazing tenderly into the eyes of a beautiful woman. But I can promise you, Miss Wickersham, that all of those pleasures will pale in comparison to the sheer unmitigated joy of being ridof you.”

“Sylvia Day is the undisputed mistress of tender, erotic romance. Her books are a luxury every woman deserves.”

“I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want to want you,” he added fiercely, taking one measured step toward her, then another. “And I sure as hell don’t want to love you. But, God help me, I just can’t stop myself.” Closing the rest of the distance between them in a single stride, he snatched her up by the shoulders, his burning gaze searching her face as if to sear her features into his memory. “I don’t want to marry you because I love you too much to ask you to spend the rest of your life hiding in the shadows.”